A Lifetime of Adventures, Uncategorized
Comments 14

Well, I’m Back.

Last week, before I came back to Lagos and real life, I was running along the canal near my house in England, and my feet hurt a little, but the sun was shining and the breath in my chest was steady, and there was a grey-haired man cleaning out his house boat while his shaggy dog sat patiently watching, and my music was a Drake song that had just come out and was inhabiting my head in the best possible way, and my sister was running along about a pace or two behind me. A few months before that I’d been told by a very clever doctor to prepare for life as a partially disabled person and there I was pounding along a path in the sunshine. Life is an up-and-down sort of thing that no-one can predict but this- this was the sort of thing you stand up in a church and sing about. This was the sort of thing you write a book about. This was my real life.

Last year I almost died in a white-sheeted hospital bed. This year I had a transplant. Somehow I’ve come out the other end of both things scarred but stronger. My faith has carried me through, yes, but mainly it was my people- my father, who often fell asleep at the end of my bed, my sister, who regularly went days without sleep, my brother, who set alarms to wake up and pray for me, my friends, who sent bouquets of flowers that made me weep and held my hand and never, ever, let me feel alone.

It took a miraculously short time to feel well and hopeful again- months yes but against the backdrop of the rest of my (hopefully healthy!) life, I feel like I blinked and went from red to green. I feel lucky and too full of feelings. I feel hopeful and afraid that I’ll forget all this and revert back to whining about things like the weather and economy class flights. I feel sure though that I’ve been given another go at things.

Nothing good comes without a price so I won’t pretend there weren’t moments when I was a snivelling, cowering wreck of a pain-coward. Awful to be around and impossible to love. But, again, my people. My faith. My sheer dumb luck.

So in the spirit of paying things forward, and sharing what (little) I’ve learned, I thought I’d say two things to anyone who’s in the middle of their own maelstrom. Firstly, resist the urge to isolate yourself and instead aggressively and selfishly surround yourself with people who can carry you when you can’t carry yourself. Secondly, if you need to or want to, please email me if you need someone to talk to at miafarraday at gmail dot com.

Happier, sillier, more frivolous posts to come. xx

 

 

14 Comments

  1. Ngozi says

    I’m glad you’re back and healthy. I pray for a healthier life for you. You’re one of my fave persons and I do not even know you personally. I’ve really, really missed you.
    I also appreciate your family and friends who helped you through the trying times. They are invaluable. Remain happy and strong.
    Love,
    Ng

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am happy that you are still here with us. Heaven can wait for more years for us to enjoy the beauty of your mind. And yes, I can be selfish. Do take care of yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

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  4. Chukwubueze O. says

    It is a great gift to have you alive and well, Mia. Thank you for being a blessing to me, and to many other strangers whom you bring joy with your writing. I pray it only gets better.
    (Do the TinyLetter, do the TinyLetter!)

    Like

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